


Parents' Night

by MedieavalBeabe



Series: Cliched Titles For Your Relationship With Peter Maximoff [4]
Category: Peter Maximoff/Reader - Fandom, X-Men (Movieverse)
Genre: 1970s, AU, Dinner, Fluff, Gen, Ice Powers, Love, Parents Are Jerks, Peter Has No Respect For Personal Space, Romance, Twinkes, but that's okay, saving life
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-02-05
Updated: 2019-02-05
Packaged: 2019-10-23 02:15:55
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,693
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/17674505
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/MedieavalBeabe/pseuds/MedieavalBeabe
Summary: It’s no secret your parents don’t approve of Peter, but when they go too far only Peter’s Mutation of super speed can save the day...and your life!





	Parents' Night

_It’s no secret your parents didn’t always approve of your relationship with Peter Maximoff. After all, before he asked you out he was always just the boy down the road who was constantly in trouble, and someone they had always imagined you would never look twice at in a million years._

_How wrong were they?_

_Very, it turned out._

_And when you two did start going out, they made no effort to hide their distaste. Of course, they never actually said anything outright. No “I don’t approve of that boy,” or a “Don’t bring him here, (Y/N), I’ve no desire to spend any longer with that boy than I have to,” or even the dreaded “You’re never to see him again and that’s final!” No, there was none of that. But there didn’t have to be. Your parents did it subtly. Until you started dating him, they would just not bother with the Maximoff family, not even sparing them a passing glance in the street, unless it was to sneer over something that had gone wrong for them or if they saw that Peter was in trouble yet again. Then even when you did start dating, they might smile at Magda if they passed her in the street, but it was always strained._

_And the first time they met Peter was a little, well, embarrassing._

_Admittedly it would have helped if he’d been fully dressed._

_No, it was nothing raunchy! It all happened two days after that disaster when you accidently hurt Peter after he messed up your study notes. (You still can’t get over the fact that he forgave you for that.) After he’d finally prised your notebook out of your hands and convinced you that you needed to take a break before you had a meltdown - yes, he did use that word, a pun for which you smacked his arm for, leading to him to yelp “Ow!” because it was his bad arm and you’d instantly told him to take his shirt off so you could examine it. Of course, Peter didn’t complain about that, but somehow what started as an innocent amateur medical examination quickly turned into full-blown making out on his couch, and it was just unfortunate that when your parents knocked on the front door, Magda happened to be out and Peter forgot to throw his shirt back on when he answered the door._

_Needless to say, they were less than amused. And it had taken you several hours to convince them that you and Peter were not sleeping together, not yet anyway, and you had just been tending to his “war wound,” as Peter called it. But even so, they didn’t approve, although they didn’t outright try to stop you either. Even so, it frustrated you that each time you told them you were going to Peter’s, they just rolled their eyes and said something like “Of course...” with the real meaning implied as “Wouldn’t you rather date someone more...boring?”_

 

 _“(Y/N),_ I don’t care if they don’t like me,” Peter murmurs.

 

“Well, _I_ do,” you insist. The pair of you are snuggled together on the couch in his basement, as usual, listening to one of his records, although actually you both stopped listening a long time ago in order to talk. You really wish Peter could just live at your place, in your bed, because he makes for a wonderful pillow. You glance up at him. “Your family all love me, mine should at least like you. Or at least approve of you enough to not sigh irritably whenever I say I’m off to your place.”

 

“Okay, but have they ever actually said they don’t want us dating?” Peter asks.

 

You shake your head. “No, but...I just know they’d rather I was seeing some stuffy, hall monitor, straight A student whose idea of a good time is to go train spotting. And I’d rather throw myself under a train than do that.” Peter hugs you tighter as you snuggle against him again, mumbling into his chest “I want you, no one else.”

 

Peter smiles and kisses the top of your head. “I want you too, _(Y/N).”_

 

You raise your eyes to his. “That’s why I want my parents to see what I see. Not some troublemaker who lives down the road, but someone who’s kind and fun and who takes care of their only daughter. I want them to see there’s more to you than just a mischief maker.” You bite your lip. “Who occasionally steals Twinkies.”

 

“You’re not going to tell them that, are you?” Peter grins. “Because I’m pretty sure that’s the type of thing they think I do anyway!”

 

You shake your head. “Don’t worry, I’ll wait until after the honeymoon to tell them that.”

 

Still, you appreciate the fact that Peter doesn’t really care whether he has your parents’ approval or not, as long as he can be with you. You know several guys at school who’d be tripping over themselves to impress your parents if they were going out with you, and all the while they’d ignore the fact that you liked them enough to be with them so they didn’t really need your parents’ approval. You imagine Peter trying to act like the “perfect” boyfriend in your parents’ eyes, trying to be someone he isn’t, pretending he’s some school swot who wouldn’t even dream of so much as holding your hand in public, let alone kissing you, and you shake your head. No. You love Peter because he isn’t like that. And it annoys you that your parents clearly don’t think you’re a good enough judge of character to decide whether or not someone’s right for you. Alright, so this is your first real relationship, but so what? You and Peter love each other, that should be enough for anybody.

 

You ponder on this as Peter walks you home, reluctantly. Sometimes you seriously think about just moving in with him, after all, as you said, his mother and sisters all love you and you’d be happy to pay your way and help out in any way possible, but some kind of loyalty towards your parents keeps pulling you back home. Still, one day, perhaps...

 

“Night, Peter,” you murmur, reaching up to kiss him.

 

“Night,” Peter murmurs back, before kissing your forehead. “I love you so much.”

 

You give him a look. “Peter, you usually say that right before you’re about to do something that might get you in trouble.”

 

“Well...”

 

“Peter! No! Not tonight, please? For me?”

 

He sighs, dramatically but smiles. “Alright. For you.”

 

“Thank you.” Hopping up to kiss him one last time, you turn to go in but Peter suddenly grabs you from behind and starts kissing your neck, making you giggle. “Peter!” You spin around in his arms before he kisses you properly until you push him away.

 

“I’m going, I’m going,” he grins, kissing you one last time before zipping off and leaving you giggling as you touch your lips where his just connected to them. With a smile, you shake your head and go in, thankful your parents didn’t wait up for you. After that, you’re in no mood for any more of their disdain.

 

Next morning, however, you’re startled when your father announces that you won’t be able to go to Peter’s tonight.

 

“Why, where am I going?” you ask, watching them both warily.

 

“My new boss is coming for dinner, and he’s bringing his wife and son.” Your father looks meaningfully at you. “It would look a lot better for me if my daughter could have the grace to put her relationship on hold for one evening.”

 

You sigh but nod, joking feebly “Fine, but there’d better be dessert.”

 

Luckily, it being Friday, i.e. a day of school, you’re able to see Peter plenty enough during the day, and he’s very understanding about why you can’t come over. All the same, you complain enough for both of you.

 

“I really don’t understand what difference me being there would do,” you say as he walks you home, fingers locked together as usual. “Unless they want me there to amuse the son or something.”

 

“No, I’m sure they just want to impress the guy by showing you off,” Peter replies, swinging your joined hands.

 

“Showing me off?”

 

“Yeah, you know. “My daughter’s so smart she got all As in her last exam and we’re hoping to send her to Harvard,” that sort of thing.”

 

You smile and tuck your head between his shoulder and neck as you press closer to him. “You really think I could get in somewhere like Harvard?”

 

“I know you could.” Peter lets go of your hand to wrap his arm around your waist instead. “You’re the smartest girl in the whole school.”

 

“Peter!” you giggle.

 

“It’s true.” He kisses your forehead. “Anyone would be proud to have a daughter like you.”

 

“Okay, stop it, seriously, or I’ll think you’re after something,” you laugh, giving him a playful shove, reflecting again that you’re lucky to have such a considerate and caring boyfriend.

 

If only your parents would just give him a chance.

 

You leave him at your door and go to get changed into something a bit more formal than the outfit you wore to school, in the end settling on the best dress you own which is smart/casual under a cardigan and neat black flats. You run a brush through your hair and spray on some perfume, decide your make up is good enough not to add anything extra and give yourself a quick once over before going downstairs to help set the table. The family arrive smartly on the dot of six and you feel a wave of dread wash over you as you meet their son, Hugo. You’re not sure what you were expecting, maybe someone older, but he looks to be about your age and is definitely, for want of a politer word, a dork. That’s the only way you can describe someone who’d wear a suit with a bow tie to a simple family dinner. But that’s not why you feel a wave of dread, you feel that because of the way he suddenly gets very flustered and pushes his glasses further up his nose when he sees you.

 

Great.

 

Still, you reflect, he’s probably aware of the fact you’ve got a boyfriend, so it’s not like you’ve got anything to worry about.

 

As you predicted, the evening is pretty boring, with your fathers mainly talking shop and your mothers deep in conversation about whatever married women talk to each other about. Hugo keeps trying to get your attention and you do your best to be polite and converse with him but it’s hard to keep yourself from yawning every time he talks. He has the most boring voice in the history of talking. Your mind keeps drifting to Peter, wishing he’s here, holding you.

 

You assumed that after dinner, everyone would go home, but no, there has to be coffee to follow and you decide to escape the boredom for a few minutes by going to help your mother make it. You’re about to start venting to her when she looks inside the fridge and promptly slams the door shut again.

 

“Oh, we’ve not got enough milk. _(Y/N),_ do you think you could run down to the store and get some?”

 

“Okay,” you shrug, reflecting that if Peter was here, you’d have milk in a flash.

 

Your mother pops her head back into the living room. “We’re low on milk, so (Y/N)’s going to get some. Why don’t you go with her, Hugo?”

 

“Um, yeah, sure,” Hugo stammers, jumping up and almost knocking the coffee table over. You roll your eyes but pull on your jacket and grab your bag without comment. Meekly, Hugo follows you, looking awestruck that he gets to be alone with _an actual girl_ for five minutes, maybe more.

 

“So, you go to private school, what’s that like?” you ask, just to be polite.

 

By the time you get to the store, you’re beginning to wish you hadn’t asked as for some reason Hugo thinks you’d be interested in the history of the building itself, how it dates all the way back to colonial times and its original timbers were once used to fix a broken cart during the Civil War. You wander into the store dully, moving mechanically over to where the milk is kept whilst Hugo is distracted by some science magazines on the racks by the till. You’re about to grab a carton when you feel a rush of something move past you and turn in time to see the air shimmering like it usually does when your boyfriend tears past you. Abandoning the milk, you run to the door as he stops abruptly, processing that he just ran past his girlfriend without really noticing, before turning to you.

 

You grin and hurry up to him. “Peter, did you pay for those Twinkies you’ve got stuffed in your pockets?”

 

Peter grins back, looks slightly guilty. “Are you going to hate me if I say no?”

 

You shake your head before flinging your arms around his neck. “God, I’m glad to see you. I’m on the verge of going mad in there.”

 

“That bad?” Peter squeezes you a little tighter, protectively but not possessively.

 

“Well, hopefully, it’s not for much longer, we’re on the after dinner coffee stage now,” you say, pulling back to look up at him. “We got sent out for milk.”

 

Peter looks over your shoulder at where Hugo’s standing, having noticed you suddenly dashing out of the store. “Should I be jealous?” he asks, playfully. “He’s quite the dresser.”

 

You slap at his arm. “You think my tastes in men are that bad?”

 

“Well, you’re with me, so why not?” Peter counters, grinning.

 

You giggle, leaning in closer to him. “Give me the silver-haired troublemaker in a leather jacket any day.” You peck his lips, gently. “Hey, can I have one of those Twinkies before you scoff the lot?”

 

“No.” You blink, slightly hurt before Peter whips two out of his jacket and holds them up. “You can’t have one, you can have two.” You shake your head again, taking them from him. “What? You know I always share.”

 

“Yes, and then you usually try and eat the ones you give me,” you remind him.

 

“Come on, that was _one_ time.” You raise an eyebrow at him. “Okay, it was twice.”

 

You wrap your arms around his neck. “Now, hadn’t you better get going before security notices all the Twinkies are gone?”

 

“You’re totally worth all the risks, _(Y/N),”_ Peter murmurs, kissing you. “But I am gonna go before Mom gets suspicious.”

 

“Don’t wake your sisters,” you tease before he’s gone in a whiff of air. Smiling, you walk back into the store and grab a carton of milk. You don’t notice the way Hugo’s now staring at you as he follows you to the till and then out of the store, rendered temporarily dumb, too caught up in the feelings Peter left with you. That is, until Hugo clears his throat, nervously.

 

“Sorry, um...you have a boyfriend?”

 

“Yeah, Peter,” you chirp back. “Did my parents not mention that?”

 

“No. Your mom said you were single.”

 

You stop as everything finally clicks into place and you realise how stupid you’ve been not to see it all before. Of course. Of course this was a set up, your parents trying to pair you off with someone they think is ideal for you, someone who is anyone but Peter Maximoff. You grip the milk carton so hard you feel the milk inside freeze solid.

 

“Oh,” you say, trying to keep your temper but also making it evident that you’re angry at the same time. “Did she?”

 

You march all the way back home, ignoring Hugo completely as he starts babbling about how it’s weird that your mother wouldn’t mention you were in a relationship, and stride into the kitchen to put away the milk, only to find when you open the door, there’s still half a carton from the day before left.

 

“What? You-!” You thrust the milk into the fridge and go to the doorway. “Mom, Dad, can I have a word with you two a minute?”

 

Your mother looks up from her seat. “Later, darling.”

 

“No, now, please, it’s kind of important,” you insist.

 

Your mother sighs and gets up. “Excuse us a moment.”

 

“Won’t be long,” your father adds, following suit.

 

You fold your arms as they come into the kitchen and glare at them. “What the hell? You’re trying to set me up with a complete stranger! You know I have a boyfriend!”

 

 _“(Y/N),_ don’t start-!” your mother begins.

 

“Don’t start? I can’t believe you’d do this!” You throw an arm in the direction of the doorway, gesturing towards where Hugo’s now sitting, red-faced, with his parents. “What, you expect me to dump Peter just because someone _you_ like comes along?”

 

“Well, you can do better,” your father cuts in.

 

You blink at him. “Better? How is that-” You gesture again. “Better? Peter loves me!”

 

“Hugo’s never been in trouble with the police in his life,” your mother states, as though this settles the matter. “You could at least give him a chance.”

 

“Maybe I would if Peter and I weren’t still together, but we are!” you hiss. “I can’t go flirting with someone else when I already have a boyfriend!”

 

“But he’d be much better for you,” your mother hisses back. “He’s clever and well-behaved and polite-”

 

“So is Peter!”

 

“And he isn’t a troublemaker,” your father adds.

 

You stare at them both. “Peter might be a troublemaker, but unlike that dork in there, he wants me for more than just my looks.” You start trembling with anger. “And you’d know that if you’d just give him a chance to show you how much he cares about me! But no! All you two see is a boy who _you_ don’t like, just because he can be a bit reckless sometimes, and that automatically means he’s all wrong for me! Well, you know what, I don’t care what you think! Not anymore! I just can’t believe you don’t want to be happy that I’m with someone kind who’d never hurt me!” You slam your hand down on the table and immediately some icy stalagmites shoot up, making you all jump. You pull your hand away at once. “I need to get out of here.”

 

 _“(Y/N)!”_ your father calls but you sprint out of the front door and down the street, stopping short as you hear them following you. You turn to see them both behind you, with your guests all standing at the door, clearly wondering what’s going on. You father stops. “Come back inside, you’re being hysterical.”

 

“Oh, yes, you would say that, wouldn’t you?” you snap, stepping back into the road. “Of course you’re daughter’s not sensible enough to know a good relationship when she’s in one! I just can’t believe you-!”

 

Something slams into you from behind and you yelp as you’re suddenly dragged off your feet and yanked back onto the pavement. You look up in time to see a car speed by, swerving dangerously in the road as if the driver’s been drinking, and as you catch your breath, you realise what just happened.

 

“Jesus, _(Y/N),_ what were you thinking?” Peter spins you around in his arms to look at you. “You could have been killed! I could have lost you!” He pulls you close. “For God’s sake, don’t do that to me again!”

 

“Peter...” you whisper, shakily, realising he’s right, you should have been more careful.

 

“What if I hadn’t been fast enough?” Peter scolds, pulling away to hold you out. “What then? I’d never forgive myself if something happened to you!”

 

“Peter,” you say, slightly dazed as you smile up at him. “You just saved my life.” You throw your arms around his neck and hug him, tightly. “Thank you.”

 

“Yeah, you’re welcome,” Peter mutters, annoyed, but he squeezes you tighter as he says it showing he doesn’t mean to be angry with you.

 

“That was remarkable, young man,” Hugo’s father says, suddenly. You break apart and look over at where everyone else is standing. Your parents look absolutely stunned, like they’ve just been struck by lightning or something, mouths agape. Hugo’s father turns to yours. “You must be very proud you’re daughter’s with someone so caring.”

 

“She’s very lucky,” his wife agrees.

 

Peter shrugs, modestly. “Just being a good boyfriend, that’s all.”

 

“Y-yes.” Your father finally pulls himself together and holds out his hand. “Thank you for that, Peter.”

 

“You’re welcome, Sir,” Peter replies, shaking his hand.

 

You smile, feeling a bit bolder now, tucking your arm through Peter’s. “If anyone needs me, I’ll be over there.” You point over to Peter’s house before tugging him away.

 

*

 

“I was serious, you know,” Peter says, playing with your hair. Your head is on his chest again as you snuggle closer to him, your shoes discarded somewhere under the ping pong table where you kicked them off, whilst his free arm is around your waist. “I don’t know what I’d do if I ever lost you.”

 

“Well, it’s a good thing you didn’t, then, isn’t it?” you smile.

 

“But I could have.”

 

“But you didn’t, Peter,” you say, raising your head. “I’m right here. And I promise I’ll be more careful in future.” Peter leans in to kiss you. “Anyway, I could be wrong, but I think my parents finally like you, or at least they think you’re fit to be my boyfriend now.”

 

“Alright,” Peter grins, hugging you tighter. “But I’m not doing afternoon tea, okay? I draw the line.”

 

You swat at him before snuggling into him. “Not even if there were Twinkies?”

 

Peter hesitates. “Well, maybe then.”

 

You laugh and kiss him, feeling now like this night has actually turned out better than you ever imagined it could have.


End file.
